The Bleeding Worlds: Resonance Part 37

"Yeah," he croaked, "I picked up something extra."

She ran to him, but he held up his left hand blocking her further advance.

"Not yet," he said. "I need a moment. And I'm not entirely sure I trust this right arm yet."

Gwynn maneuvered through the maze of stacked books and sank onto a bench along the side wall.

"Marduk," he said, "would you have some long bandages I could wrap this arm with?"

The old G.o.d nodded.

"Of course. Until recently, this was a less than safe part of the world. It would not only be uncharitable to be without a first aid kit, but possibly suicidal."

He reached down below the counter, cursing in some long dead language as he knocked down several book stacks in the process.

After a few moments, he reappeared with a large metal box, painted red so long ago it had darkened and stained to the color of old blood. The lid protested with a loud, metallic creak as he opened it and rooted around the contents.

"Here we are," he said, making a slow approach toward Gwynn with a long strand of bandage.

Marduk didn't go close enough to put it directly into Gwynn's hand. Instead, he extended his arm and forced Gwynn to do the same.

"Thanks," Gwynn said, as much for the keeping of distance as the bandage.

Gwynn pressed one end of the bandage just below his elbow and let the rest unfurl to the ground. He closed his eyes, drew a long, slow breath, and let his body relax. The bandage swayed, caught in a phantom breeze felt nowhere else in the shop. Then it jerked, twisted, and jumped, the breeze becoming a gale. Gwynn stretched out his right arm. Coiling like a serpent, the bandage formed loops around his arm and then snapped tight, surrounding right to his fingertips.

His breath came out in a contented sigh.

"How did you...?" Adrastia gaped.

A slight smile curled his lips.

"Everything is connected," he said, as though confirming a secret he doubted till then.

"You didn't answer my question."

"What?" Gwynn looked surprised, like their questioning looks made no sense. "Oh," he said after a few moments, "in the Veil, I learned things. But...I wasn't sure whether they'd translate the same way outside. It's not as strong, but the principle seems the same."

Adrastia stared at his right arm.

"I have so many things to ask you," she said.

"It's a long story. But it looked like you were about to go somewhere when I arrived."

"Yes," she nodded. "I was going to meet Jason and Fuyuko."

"Jason...and Fuyuko? She's here? She's ok?"

He rose to his feet, teetering for a moment, and grabbing the wall to catch himself.

"I'll come with you," he said. "I want to see Fuyuko."

"No, you need some rest, and probably food and something to drink. I just need to check in with them for a little while. I'll come back here and get you. Promise."

She charged out the door before Gwynn could protest further. The world s.h.i.+fted, signaling her folding away.

I felt her fold. No, I felt the whole world change, allowing her to fold.

It wasn't just the world folding he could sense, but also the trace of Adrastia. Folding had never been his greatest strength. In Suture, he'd been of the lowest cla.s.s, having to actually visit a place before being able to fold to it on his own. But now he could feel the connection between things. Her path would be a trail of bread crumbs, guiding his path to her.

"Before you go," Marduk said, startling Gwynn from his thoughts, "is there anything about your experience you would like to discuss? I sense great change coming, and we may not be able to speak like this again."

"I wasn't...I mean..."

Marduk held up his hand to stop Gwynn's stammering.

"I admit, my t.i.tle of G.o.d of knowledge is perhaps overblown. But that does not mean I am an idiot. Your intentions were clear as you watched Adrastia leave. I can also see some wonderment in your expression, meaning something new happened as she folded. Did you sense her leave? Can you still feel her presence, like a thread crossing many miles?"

"How did you know?"

Marduk smiled warmly. "I am very old. And you are not the first person I have seen return from the Veil. However, I am sure you are the first to return with a new limb."

Gwynn raised his right arm, studying it, realizing his experiences in the Veil weren't just dreams. His arm, being able to move the bandages, even sensing Adrastia's pa.s.sage, they had all survived the transition to the physical world.

"So again," Marduk said, "is there anything you need to ask?"

"The word. I've been told several times I need to become the word. Do you know what that means?"

Marduk came around from behind the counter, lifting himself backward to sit on its surface.

"Only the ones who said those words can tell you the specific meaning," he said. "But I can give you some ideas. At the most basic level, words convey information. More specifically, words are a means for expressing our thoughts. I am no mind reader so I cannot know your thoughts as you think them. I can observe your body's movements, your expressions, but even those I am using my own interpretation to guess. I can only know for certain if you use words. A word is a transformative thing, giving meaning to objects, thoughts, and feelings. In religions, their teachings are often referred to as 'The Word.' But again, their function is to convey the thoughts of the church, deity, whatever, into something people can understand and follow. If you are to become a word, I would interpret the meaning to be you must become an instrument of transformation-conveying some abstract notion into something concrete."

"Like giving birth to a new reality?"

Marduk laughed.

"Well, I suppose. Though much to the joy and frustration of men, only women can give birth. We are merely...catalysts in the process. Thousands of women perform a miracle every day. Perhaps it is why we men are both so envious and covetous of them. We have even gone so far as to insert ourselves in legends and prophesies that contained only a woman. It is little wonder our species has progressed so little."

"So no new reality?"

"I could not say," Marduk shrugged. "You asked about being the word. I have told you my guess. Only time will prove me right or wrong."

Gwynn rose from the bench, his legs steadier. He extended his left hand, which Marduk took.

"Thank you," Gwynn said. "For everything."

"You are most welcome. To say I am impressed you returned would be an understatement. You must have a strong sense of self and of where you came from."

"Maybe."

Where I came from? I wonder...

Gwynn released Marduk's hand and took a step back, giving the old G.o.d a slight bow.

And folded away.

27.

Homecoming

Gwynn didn't immediately follow Adrastia.

He did want to see Fuyuko, but with Marduk mentioning where he came from, he realized he owed someone else a visit more. It was something he'd promised himself he would do if he ever returned to the world of his birth.

Brantfield was deserted. Not just quiet, but empty. Pausing for a minute, he reached out around him, pus.h.i.+ng as far as he dared before fearing he'd lose himself. Only plants registered-humans, and even animals, had abandoned this place. The barriers of the Veil were thin, unstable. The world killer which had opened those eight years ago weakened like a fresh scab during the Cataclysm. It wasn't enough to destroy the world, but it made this town unsafe. Any human who spent too much time here risked becoming a Taint.

Most of the buildings were crumbling, or pulverized by some unknown force which left craters pock marking the city. Nature had risen in the form of gra.s.s, weeds, and trees, to reclaim the land people had paved over.

Eight years ago, I thought the city's rolling over nature was a bad thing.

He still did. But there was no denying this Frankenstein of nature and human construction had a depressing loneliness.

It should be one or the other. Not both.

His point of arrival was just south of his old high school, Northfield High. From the exterior, the school appeared almost ready for students. Only a few broken windows betrayed its abandoned nature. Gwynn remembered he and Fuyuko scrambling through the halls, pursued by a monster who had previously been his princ.i.p.al.

Were they able to fix the damage before all this happened? he wondered.

He placed a hand against one of the walls. Could he reach out, touch some memory within the stone and see this place's final moments? No, even if it was possible, it wasn't something he wanted to see.

My home was only ten minutes away.

He didn't bother with the walk. Even from the distance of the school, the crater where his neighbourhood used to be was visible.

Several folds later, he'd moved a mile outside the old city limits. He'd moved fractions of miles at a time, testing how far the devastation spread. At the point where he'd stopped, a single storey building had been erected spanning the four lanes of what used to be one of the city's main entrance arteries. The sign above the entrance declared the building to be the Brantfield Memorial. The road leading up to it had been widened into a parking lot with a turn-a-bout so vehicles could enter and exit. A fence topped with barbed wire and signs cautioning life threatening danger spread along the city boundaries.

Gwynn pressed his hand against the door lock, willing the tumblers to twist and turn, finally opening with a solid click. He touched the alarm panel and told it to be silent-he didn't need any company.

Six computer terminals lined a gla.s.s wall facing the city, so the devastation was visible.

He tapped the screen on one of the terminals. It hummed and came to life with a solemn welcome screen with chunky black letters and a sepia toned picture of what the city used to be like. This screen faded and a menu appeared with options to view the city's history and those lost in the Cataclysm.

A tap on those lost gave the option to view alphabetically or to search. Gwynn could already guess the answer, but he tapped in the name anyway.

An image of his aunt Jamie filled the left of the screen, while the right displayed basic biographical information. Under the heading Survived By, was a single name-Gwynn Dormath.

The picture must have been supplied by someone Jamie knew-Gwynn didn't recognize it. Besides, all of the pictures in their home would've been destroyed.

Jamie, pictures of his parents, the place he'd started to acknowledge as home, all gone. He'd destroyed them.

Tears spattered on the screen. Gwynn crumpled to the floor, leaning his head against the terminal's pedestal.

"I'm so sorry, Jamie."

Sorry. Such a trivial word. He'd taken her for granted. Accepting he would never return to his own Earth ever again-was it all to avoid this possibility? How many times did he look at Allison and think how much his aunt would enjoy meeting her? Never once did he give voice to words suggesting she was...gone.

But he'd known.

He gulped a few breaths and used the terminal to steady himself as he stood. Jamie's smiling face still looked on from the screen. She wasn't entirely gone, he knew. All people had a soul, and that soul could be reborn.

"Wait for me," he said. "I failed you in this world. At least let me create a better one for you to live in again."

Gwynn picked up the strands of Adrastia's pa.s.sing through the folds of the world and followed them.

A mix of a.s.sault rifles and pistols were levelled at Gwynn's head.

Adrastia jumped from a nearby chair and threw herself in front of him.

"Hold your fire, he's a friend."

She crossed her arms tight and narrowed her eyes.

"I thought I told you to stay with Marduk."

Gwynn tried to muster an apologetic look. "I just couldn't stay there and do nothing."

"Gwynn?"

Fuyuko came around the table which occupied the center of the room. Gwynn took a step back, his left hand up in defence.

"Hi, Fuyuko," he said. "Sorry, just, I've been through some things, and I'm not quite ready for hugs yet."

She didn't argue, or look hurt. If anything, she appeared suspicious.

"I'll say you've been through some things," Jason said. "How the h.e.l.l did you get your arm back?"